


The Harbor

by clairytale



Category: Maritime Weakness, Original Story
Genre: F/M, Maritime Weakness - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairytale/pseuds/clairytale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a girl finds a guy, and she tries to keep him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Harbor

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original work.  
> Now, I know that this is a website that showcases fanfictions and the like, but this seemed to be the best place to post this.

I never knew how long the morning could last.

 

It was as if everything was breaking apart, and reforming again in a simple silence.

 

The clouds tore at the seams of the sky, wrenching the sunrise from its hiding place in the sea.

 

The colors shone as clear as glass, and as pure as gold. They shimmered in the brilliance of the sun, waving about like flailing branches of a tree.

 

This was the morning I beheld, standing at the Harbor, getting drenched in sea spray and salt water.

 

I turned to leave the brilliant sight, but something drew me back.

 

My bright blonde hair swept around me, its curls rippling in the wind, acting as a blinder for what I should have seen.

 

There, in the water, was a being. He was either drowned or about to be.

 

I stabbed my hands into the water in an attempt to pull the heavy boy out of the water. Sadly, I degress, I was only nine at the time, so this proved to be a difficult task in itself. The pounds of water splashing its way out of his shirt and slacks aside, he was heavy!

 

When I finally lifted the weary soul onto the cobblestone floor of the dock, he spit and sputtered, lying on his sopping wet back.

 

He choked.

 

He gasped.

 

But all in all, he was alive, and that was the best part of it.

 

Finally, when he got all the salty liquid out of his lungs, he looked at me with such simple, dim eyes. "Where am I?" Was all he asked, his voice barely a muffled sob of water and confusion. "You're at the Harbor, in a port city." I told him, smoothing back his short, rich black hair with a single small hand. "Who are you?" I asked, cocking my head to the side to show that I was genuinely interested in finding out his name. "Horatio." He whispered. Then, in a swift moment, he blinked, choked, and passed out.

 

I was left with an at least 150 lb. teenager who was unconscious, still mostly soaked, and I had barely any arm strength, so I couldn't just pick him up, take him to the enchanted inn and call it a day.

 

I dragged him.

 

Yep.

 

I dragged him all the way home.

 

Over cobblestone roads, brick roads, dirt roads, grass roads, fish-laden pathways, dirty alleyways, and most assuredly more cobblestone roads.

 

By the time I made it home, it was nearly high noon. I had pushed, pulled, shoved, gasped, wheezed and tugged over this lunk of a guy all the way to my home in the outer rim of the city.

 

And by golly, I was proud of it.


End file.
